


Like Always

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, Post Episode: s05e20 Enemy at the Gate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-17
Updated: 2011-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-15 17:59:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/163403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronon finds John alone after the series end.</p><p>(Re-post. Comment-fic written for thingswithwings' <a href="http://thingswithwings.livejournal.com/51233.html">kissing fest</a>.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Always

Ronon caught up with Sheppard in the exercise room, where it looked like he was trying to pound the heavy bag back into sand.

"Hey," Ronon said over the _grunt-thump-grunt-thump_.

"Hey," Sheppard gasped, then spun and kicked, the bag swinging away ponderously. Sheppard backed out of its path and wiped his forehead with his wrist band. It was like trying to mop an ocean with a towel, Ronon thought with amusement, admiring the sheen on John's slick arms and neck.

"I thought you went with the others," Sheppard said after a moment, and went to pick up his water bottle. Ronon walked behind the bag and stopped its motion, then wrapped his hands on the chain and leaned against it. It was heavy and solid; felt like a body. Ronon inhaled the smell of leather and sweat.

"No. Teyla wants to shop. Rodney said he'd take her to something called a 'mall.' Everyone else is gone." It was true; all of Atlantis was on furlough, and the city's halls echoed with emptiness.

Sheppard raised his eyebrows and walked back to face Ronon across the bag.

"What about you?" Ronon asked, then dropped his hands down to brace the bag when he saw Sheppard preparing to swing.

"I don't like shopping," Sheppard grunted as he landed a punch.

"Yeah, but there's other stuff. It's your world," Ronon said, a little distracted by the thuds vibrating through the bag into his body.

"I don't like Earth much, either," Sheppard muttered.

"Why?" Ronon asked, even though he'd been a little uncomfortable the first time he'd been taken out into the great city of San Francisco. So many people buzzing, doing, careless under an unshielded blue sky. It made Ronon's spine tingle, made him want to fire his blaster and send them scurrying into hiding.

Except they were safe here. This planet was safe. Ronon had helped make it so. He had spared a thought to Sateda and its blackened ruins, and tried not to be infuriated at the blithe ignorance Earth's inhabitants displayed.

"This planet hasn't been that good to me," Sheppard said. He gave Ronon a wry shrug and struck out again with his fist.

"There must be something you want to see. Maybe something you can show me."

Sheppard shot him a hard look. "Don't you want to be asking Amelia that?"

And there it was. Sheppard was no coward, putting it out there like that. Ronon had seen his eyes when he'd left Ronon in the infirmary with Amelia.

"I'm asking you," Ronon said, not bothering to explain. But Sheppard's mouth went tight and he struck out in a combination, left-right-left-roundhouse, the last punch so hard the chain shivered as the bag lifted.

Then Sheppard backed away and walked over to his gym bag. He pulled out a towel and mopped his face, his neck, even lifted his shirt to swipe across the small of his back where his T-shirt was soaked through.

By the time he'd finished Ronon was there, taking the towel from him and laying his hand on the exposed strip of skin, warm and damp under his fingers. Sheppard twitched, but didn't turn around, and his head dropped.

With his other hand, Ronon rubbed the towel up the back of Sheppard's neck, pushing against the grain so the dark spikes of hair stood up.

Sheppard shivered and asked in a husky voice, "Why now?"

Ronon knew what he meant. He couldn't even answer it himself, except he was in a galaxy not his own, on a planet where there were so many people he was drowning in his aloneness, and he didn't want Amelia. He didn't want to start anew when something so certain had stood by so solidly, always there. He'd decided the moment he'd seen the look on Sheppard's face in the infirmary—resigned, rueful. Pained.

Of all of them, Sheppard least deserved the pain he heaped on his own shoulders for every mistake, every loss. But even that wouldn't have been enough for Ronon to finally break the silence that had stood between them for so many years.

And then Ronon had overheard Woolsey speaking to Colonel Carter about Atlantis, and how the IOA was resisting allowing it to return to Pegasus. And it was in that moment Ronon realized how little any of it mattered. He'd told Sheppard as much—this was home, no matter where the city lived. And his team was his family, and Sheppard was—Sheppard was his center.

Ronon had dropped the towel and was now using his fingers to brush through Sheppard's hair, scratching against the damp scalp, and Sheppard continued to shiver under his other hand, but he made no move to turn around. He was still waiting, Ronon thought, for the answer to a question that was as unimportant as the distance between galaxies.

It was a lie, anyway, the question—what Sheppard was really asking was, 'Why me?'

"It was always you," Ronon said. "You know that, John."

At that, Sheppard turned at last. His eyes were opened wide, strange to see when usually Sheppard hid everything under lazy, hooded looks.

"I didn't expect," Sheppard said, then stopped. He licked his lower lip nervously.

"No, you don't." That was part of the problem, Ronon figured. You never got anything without asking, or just taking, and Sheppard never did either. "Doesn't matter. We're here, now."

Sheppard had never been slow to react in the field, and this time was no different, because as soon as Ronon curled his fingers around the back of Sheppard's neck, Sheppard reciprocated, fingers gripping Ronon's arm almost painfully tight. And then John leaned in and kissed him, a rough, wild kiss, sucking in Ronon's tongue and tangling it with his own. John's mouth was so hungry—Ronon felt heat burn along his neck and down to his groin, and he pushed his hips against Sheppard's and then tried his best to feed his hunger. He sucked at John's lower lip—Ronon had been staring at it for so long he almost knew how good it would be to nibble on it, to stroke his tongue along it, feeling the faint rasp of whiskers just below.

It made John groan and clutch at him, his hands sliding hard down Ronon's back to grip his ass and pull him closer. Ronon smelled sweat, and leather, and musk, and smiled against John's lips.

And then John's radio chirped.

John broke away with a gasp and leaned his forehead against Ronon's shoulder. "Damn it."

Ronon stifled a laugh because John was already touching his radio and saying, "What? This is Sheppard." John frowned and said, "Yeah, right away. Okay." He tapped off and raised his eyes to Ronon's. "That was Woolsey. He and the big brass are—they want me to—" He waved his hand.

"This about Pegasus?"

"Yeah. I'm guessing. Fuck!" John started to break away, but Ronon took him by the shoulders. He wrapped his fingers around the tense muscle there and dug in, relishing John's soft groan and the new freedom to make him sound that way. Ronon smiled and gave John a firm kiss, then released him.

"Go. Kick the IOA's ass."

John had been looking a little stunned, but now one of his eyebrows rose and he smirked. "I could use you as back up."

"You got me."

"And later, maybe—"

"Yeah. We'll finish this."

"Not finish. Never finish," John said, color high on his cheeks.

"Naw. We're just starting."

John flashed him an incredulous smile before striding out, Ronon at his side.

Just like always.

 

_End._


End file.
